Doctor's wife
by Iikku The Eyebrow Master
Summary: Doctor Kirkland is not the most perfect man on Earth, not at all, but he still tries to save a dying woman, who isn't exactly an angel either. Steampunk AU, fem!France, gore, insanity.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello again. I was supposed to write more It's a flower and All of him but I've had this laying around my desk for a while and I wanted to get it out. It was supposed to be a oneshot but I broke it in two pieces for some good reason. This is based on Clockwork Quartet's "Doctor's wife" though there are some differences, I recommend you to listen the song while reading this. Anyway I am not used to write things like this, so it's a little this and that. I'd appreciate some feedback on it. Also, there are dates for a reason there, please note them while reading for clarity, okey?**

* * *

_Twenty-sixth of March, 1889_

"I don't think you can find the cure."

A simple, cold statement stabbed Arthur's heart ruthless. He couldn't stand when people doubt his skills as a doctor and a scientist, but there was more than that now. He glared Roderich angrily.

"What makes you think that?"

"You have tried almost everything. Do not misundertand, your work has been fantastic. You truly are a marvelous doctor. But her seizures...they are becoming more pronounced by the day. The illness is eating her rapidly even if you use your science. I'm merely saying the truth", the Austrian explained, eyeing Arthur's desk. It was filled with papers, books and small notes. "You should focus on easing her pain instead of finding the cure."

"I'm a doctor. My job is to take care of people, help them, save lives, that means my job is to find the cure", Arthur said. He wished Roderich to leave and let him return to his research, but he concidered himself to be a gentleman, so kicking him out of the house was not an option (yet, very tempting).

"Yes, yes, I do understand. But, have you even figured what is the cause of the illness?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. I am quite certain it's the doing of slow progressive decay. Quite horrendous. Her inner organs are in a bad shape. I'm afraid I have to replace some of them mechanically."

Roderich looked at the Briton, mild shock in his violet eyes. Roderich Edelstein, he was no doctor, no scientist, he was just a mere pianist, but he was not a fool and well aware of the medical world.

"Mechanically?"

"Yes."

"You do realize how risky that is? She might get complications, she might even die. And even if you succeed, your reputation will be in danger. And thanking is that mad Pole, biomechanic science is not appreciated these days-"

"I know the risks! But like I said, my job is to save lives. If I can do that with a mechanical organ, I will do it and I do not care what the public thinks. This woman, she deserves to live", Arthur snapped. Roderich snorted quietly.

"You've always been an odd one. You took her and her brother in your house. This woman has sinned more than us two combined. Her profession is one of the most sinful ones ever."

"Do not act prude. Do not pretend you have not searched for warmth and pleasure from a prostitute, I know very well you have."

The aristrocrat's expression changed to a more annoyed form. Arthur smirked.

"Fine then. But do remember, there are powerful forces out there who will not like the fact that you have been spending your time on a filthy-"

"She's not filthy."

"-whore when there are multiple diseases rampaging there, attacking the rich and the poor, good people. You have been warned."

* * *

_Thirteenth of January, 1889_

It was late already when Arthur returned from his patient's house, a check on how he was recovering. A young boy, not even out of his teens, had appeared on his front step. Arthur didn't know the boy, but the guessed he was new client or a family member of one. He greeted the boy, getting a quiet response in return. When he asked the boy what he was after, he was given a golden necklace and a plead.

"My sister is very sick, she will die if you will not help her. We do not have much money, we have to pay with that necklace, but please, do help us. You're our only hope."

How could he say no? The boy, Matthew his name was, was a pale one, blonde hair framing his face, violet eyes sad and desperate. His clothes were old and worn, yet well-kept. There was something in him that made him appear weak, somehow. Arthur couldn't help but pity him. He promised to come see his sister, not knowing what was ahead.

Matthew lead him to the part of the town which was not in a good name; prostitutes, thiefs, murdereres, the scum of humanity had gathered there along filth and sin. As if that was not enough, smoke and gases from the factories near by had ruined the air, making breathing difficult. It was no wonder she had fallen ill, diseases were rather contagious in those kind of places. Anyone with common sense would have avoided it. Thought of running away crossed Arthur's mind, but he had already promised to come see the ill woman.

They arrived to a small brick house. Matthew told they had a room there for rent. As they stepped in, a strong smell rose to the doctor's nostrils. There was something wrong it that house, probably mold. Again, no wonder the woman was ill. Arthur began to relax; if it was an infection, it could be easily cured with the treatments they had these days and he could leave that disgusting place immeaditely.

He was proved wrong.

The second Matthew opened the door for him, motioning him to enter the small room, he saw the sister. Arthur had seen enough patients to recognize when someone had an infection, and this woman clearly didn't. It was something else, something he could not cure with one time.

She was lying on the bed under the blankets. Her face was even paler than her brother's, the shadows's created by the moonlight creating a dramatic effect in the dimly lit room, and her neck had a large red spot of rash. Long, brownish-blonde hair was open, forming a sea of curls around her face. She was a rather attractive woman, but the illness had taken a toll.

What caught Arthur's attention wasn't any of those, nor were any other things which he usually noted such as the visible symptoms.

Her eyes.

They were a stunning shade of violet, like Matthew's, slightly puffy and red. When she heard someone step into the room, she immeaditely faced Arthur, gleaming eyes drilling into the Briton's in a way only demons and angels should be able to. They froze his blood as he recognized the far-too-familiar look.

This woman had been possessed by a strong illness which was certain to lead to death.

He already knew this case was going to be a difficult one.

"Bonsoir," she coughed, blinking a few times. _French. Oh the joy._

"Evening, ma'am. I'm Dr. Kirkland", he greeted her formally. He had done this many times before, telling there is no hope anymore and they should give up, wait for death to pick their belongings. This should not be any different.

Matthew closed the door and walked next to the small bed. He brushed his hand over his sister's hair softly and smiled.

"I gave him the necklace, he will cure you", he whispered reassuringly. The boy wasn't fully sincere on that one tough. He was aware that she might die, which made Arthur's heart ache a bit.

Matthew turned his eyes on Arthur and took her hand in his own.

"This is my sister, Francoise. She has been having seizures, she cramps and coughs when that happens."

"I see. How long this has been occuring?"

"Two months."

"Two months already? Have you talked to another doctor about this before?"

The siblings echanged a quick look.

"No", Francoise answered.

"Why is that?"

"My profession disgusts them. They do not want to touch a prostitute."

Arthur's eyes widened. He was well aware of the possibility of this, it was common in this part of the town. But Francoise was rather straight-forward about it, that surprised him. Before he could come up with something to say, Francoise already spoke, voice an odd mixture of despair and determination that made chills creep up Arthur's spine.

"I understand if you wish to leave now, but please do spear a tought on my dear little brother. We have only each other, letting me die to this infernal illness will leave him on thin air. He is only 15, barely a man."

"Francoise, tu-"

"Chut, Matthew. I beg you, Dr. Kirkland, do help me", she plead, a coughing fit following.

Now, Arthur Kirkland wasn't the kindest of men, in fact he was often being compared to the Devil himself with his bad temper and sailor mouth, but he had a heart too. Sure, it was certain the woman would go to Hell due to her sinful life, but it didn't mean she had to leave so soon. She was fairly young, around Arthur's age actually. And then there was Matthew, who would lose everything if Francoise fade away.

Doctors were supposed to save lives, and that was what Arthur would do.

"Do not worry, ma'am, I will cure you."

* * *

_Thirtieth of January, 1889_

"This house isn't a place for a sick woman", Arthur stated as he filled one of his syringers with a chemical. Francoise was sitting on the edge of the bed, sleeve of her night gown rolled up. She snorted.

"Do you think we have much of a choice? We're barely managing now that I can't work."

"I know. It's just that when you two live here, your lives are in permanent danger of any infection. There is a rumour of a new sort of plague rampaging. A strange mutation", Arthur said and took her arm, pressing the syringer's sharp needle against a vein. "This will hurt a little."

"You always say that."

"You would forget if I didn't say it."

"What makes you think that?"

"Intuition."

Francoise made a face when the needle stung her. Arthur emptied the syringer, injecting all of the liquid to mix with her blood.

"This should help for a while."

"When will you find a permanent help?"

"That would need more time of researching. Since I am not able to see you that daily, it will take some time."

"More time than I have?"

Arthur didn't answer. Francoise sighed.

"I knew it."

"I would have the time if I didn't have other patients. But I do have them. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. They have valuable lives, and I am just a prostitute. They are more important."

"Do not say that. You are a good person, no matter what is your profession. I know a banker, a rich man with a good reputation, my patient, in reality he is filthier than a decaying rat, and compared to him, you are jewels and pearls", he said as he cleansed the bleeding spot with alcohol.

"Sweet words, dear Arthur."

"True words."

He put his instruments back in his satchel. Francoise followed his movements, that familiar gleam in her eyes. She waited him to leave as he always did after treatments, but to her surprisement Arthur sat down on the chair next to the bed.

"What are you doing?" she asked, confused. Arthur flashed her a gentlemany smirk.

"I have a solution for our problem."

* * *

_Twenty-fift of February, 1889_

"You can't do that, sir!"

Matthew's shock was expected. Of course, what Arthur had just proposed was far too good to be true. His life wasn't like this. His life was living in poverty, in the scum, but it seemed the change was going to be a permanent one.

"Oh yes, I can do that. And do not call me sir, Arthur is just fine", the Briton answered calmly. They were in his library. Arthur had, again, caught Matthew there reading his medical books, completely engrossed by the text. He wasn't angry about it, not at all. Quite the opposite.

"Sorry. But still, you can't do that. It's far too much! It's enough that you took us in your house, but I can't accept your offer in any possible way!"

Arthur sighed. He had expected a reaction like this, Matthew opposing. The boy was bright, but too humble.

"Matthew. I have lost count on how many times I have found you here studying the books. You have helped me in my laboratory. You clearly have a talent. Letting that to go to a waste would be terrible."

"But to hire a teacher for me?!"

"How else would you learn? Look, lad, you have never been in a school even though you are an intelligent young man. You must not become a regular worker or a thief. You could be a doctor if you had the education! I'm offering you that."

"It's too much", Matthew still protested, though he wanted to go along with the chance. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he could actually become a respected citizen. He quickly fixed his glasses (he had a poor eye sight, Arthur had noticed it and bought him the glasses) and put the book back to the self.

"You can't allow you to do that."

"Matthew, look. I didn't take you and Francoise in for nothing. I promised her I would cure her, but that might take time. Even if she is doing better now, that is temporary. Without my treatments, she would die in six weeks. With my treatments, I can make her life a little longer every day just so I can find the cure. But if she dies, you will be left alone. I can't do that. I want you to have a back up, and I can offer you one. All you have to do is accept it."

* * *

_Twenty-seventh of February, 1889_

"So you put Matthew in school", Francoise grinned. She looked completely different from what she had been when they first met. She had some colour on her cheeks, and the rash was gone. The illness was still there though, she was just having one of her better seasons.

"I did", Arthur answered. Francoise hummed.

"Did he put up a protest?"

"Yes, but it wasn't really useful. I already had decided to educate him", he said and put away his instruments, sitting next to her on the bed. She laughed a bit.

"The nerve of some people! You are an awful man."

"Now now, is that true? Who promised to cure you for free, took you in his house and bought you new clothes?"

"You, and that is exactly my point. You do all these wonderful things, and there is no way we could pay you back, you will not even allow us to try! You're a sadist, Arthur", she said and smiled. Their eyes met, making the Brit smile too.

"Could be, but you're getting the benefits, my dear. I would not complain if I were you."

"Yes you would. You complain about everything."

"Do not!"

"Do too. Like when I wanted to surprise you and cooked you a lunch. You went crazy", she laughed softly.

"That's because you're sick and you should not do such things! You should be bloody resting. I could've cooked my own lunch too, thank you very much."

"And become sick by your cookings? Honestly, Arthur, I cannot believe how you can eat those things. They're a health 's a good thing you have a maid who cooks you dinner and other things."

Arthur hmph'ed and turned his eyes from Francoise. He was slightly blushing, and she knew that. Francoise took his hand in hers and scooted a little bit closer, whispering softly.

"Still, I have to thank you with all my soul. Thanks to you Matthew will be able to survive even if I die, and maybe even marry someday, something I would have never been able to offer him. I will be in a debt."

The doctor faced her again, meeting her sad eyes.

"You will not."

"Yes I wil-"

"No, you won't. I have a solution."

"What is it, then?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

She pouted.

"I hate when you're being mysterious."

* * *

_Twenty-eight of February, 1889_

They were sitting in the parlour. Arthur went through his mail, tossing the useless letters away. Francoise followed his movements and face, noticing he made a face every time. She smiled, careful to not let the doctor see that.

"Oh bloody hell. An invitation to a ball. That goes to the fireplace."

"Do you not like to dance, cher?"

Arthur threw the letter into the flames, smiling with no amusement.

"I do like to dance. But only with people I want to dance with", he said, returning to the mail. Francoise was quiet for a moment, then asked a question.

"Who do you want to dance with?"

Arthur paused and glanced her, then turned his gaze again. His cheeks reddened a little. She smirked.

A silent moment followed. Arthur found something actually he wanted to read (or maybe he was pretending), and Francoise just watched him, mind wandering. Her eyes were locked on his face, studying him. As Arthur folded the letter and put it on the coffee table next to him, she asked another question.

"Could you dance with me?"

His green eyes rose, meeting her violet ones. There was that blush again which Francoise loved so much, and she grinned. Arthur blinked a couple of times, then stood up and walked to her.

"If you don't feel too weak to do so, I can dance with you for as long as you like."

* * *

_Seventeenth of May, 1889_

Arthur brushed her fringe of her eyes. Francoise's breathing was heavy and feverish. It killed Arthur to see her like this, nothing seemed to help. She had been bedbound for a month already, her legs were too weak to hold her, she was far too pale, someone might easily mistake her for a corpse even, but her mind was bright like a light, optimistic.

Arthur didn't share that feature, but he loved her thought of things getting better in the end. He wanted to believe in that, too.

It was proving to be hard, though. Francoise was not able to speak anymore. The illness had damaged her throath so greatly, she barely could swallow. At first, she had tried to utter sounds, but she was too weak. All she could do was to lie on the bed now.

Arthur looked at her, despair twisting his guts. He could save her with clockwork, but he didn't know if she would survive the operation. Not now, at least.

He sighed. Francoise opened her eyes, searching for Arthur. When her gaze found him, the faintest hint of smile rose to her lips.

"Morning, dear. Do you feel any better?"

Francoise nodded carefully. Arthur smiled.

"Liar."

She rolled her eyes and mouthed "idiot". Arthur glared her, just making her smile more. He wished she could laugh, Francoise had a beautiful laugher, but he knew it hurt if she even tried. So, he simply moved onto the news he had.

"Matthew's teacher is already here. He's a bright boy, he studies all the time. He will become a great man some day."

Francoise nodded slightly. Even when ill, her beauty was enchanting, the light escaping from between the curtains played with her features with the most captivating ways. Arthur continued their "conversation", keeping her on the track of events. She listened hungrily, eyes fixed on the doctor. For not being able to leave the room for such a long time was a drag, she hated it. Arthur knew this, and for her joy he tried to be as vivid as he could as he spoke.

Their moment was interrupted when a maid called him downstairs for some patient had come for his eye. Arthur promised to be there in as soon as he could, sighing. He looked at her sadly, gaining an equally upset smile.

"I am sorry, love, again the World comes in between us", he murmured, and planted a soft his just at the corner of her lips, simultaneously squeezing her hand. She tilted her head to face him better, and mouthed "that's no good". Arthur laughed, and kissed her again, this time on her lips.

"You have me quite well around your little finger, _Mrs. Kirkland_."

* * *

**LIKE WHO SAW THAT COMING. WELL THE TITLE IS "DOCTOR'S WIFE" SO YEAH. NO ONE.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Saying this was painful to write would be a major understatement. Now, Arthur is not quite there anymore, and I tried to write this so it would be seen. That's why it's kind of hectic. Also, remember to check the dates. They're important.**

* * *

_Don't let me go, my darling_

_Hold me safely 'til the morning_

_Promise, when the lights are fading_

_You'll save me_

_Twenty-third of June, 1889_

Arthur was in pain. Not physically. Mentally. He worked, he worked so hard, and things didn't seem to progress; instead, he found himself deeped in darkness every second.

Francoise's eyes were closed, and she was laying on the bed. She looked so serene, but Arthur saw nothing beautiful in the situation; his charming, lovely, gorgeous wife was unreachable for him now. She was there. He knew it. But she didn't respond.

Francoise didn't answer to any kind of stimuli anymore. She had paralysed a week earlier; soon there were only her eyes, those gleaming eyes of a beautiful violet shade, and then, they were gone too.

His wife was stolen.

Arthur had cleared his calendar; she was his only charge now. He focused only on Francoise. No one seemed, no, no one _was, _as important as Francoise. She was light, air, water, fire, she was life, Arthur needed her more than anything.

She was beautiful.

So beautiful.

Before Arthur had noticed, his life had began to circle around that woman; taking care of her was the only thing that mattered. Every day, he clothed her, fed her, talking to her all the time, telling how Matthew was doing. He brushed her hair, she was very proud of her mane, and nightly read by her side. When he wasn't with Francoise, Arthur was in his laboratory, finding a cure.

Maybe that mad Pole he had talked about with Roderich wasn't that mad. Maybe he was in love.

It didn't matter much, at the moment. Francoise mattered.

Arthur was convinced Francoise was still there; behind that face there was a functioning mind, prisoned in a useless body. Arthur was determined he would free that mind, bring his beloved back. He wanted to see that smile, hear her voice, laughter, he had to see her eyes, her gleaming eyes.

_Don't let me go, my darling_

_Hold me safely 'til the morning_

_Promise, when the lights are fading_

_You'll save me_

He could hear her weak heartbeat fading away. He could hear her pleading, no, Francoise would order him, she was a powerful woman, no matter if ill, to save her.

He wouldn't let her down.

* * *

_Thirtieth of June, 1889_

Arthur had gone mad.

Matthew knew it. The doctor was mad now. His love towards Francoise had consumed him, and he had lost the grip to reality. Arthur's servants knew this, too. They were whispering, talking about their master behind his back. Matthew detested them. They didn't have the right to talk about him like that. Arthur was a wonderful man; risking himself in order to save a life. How many would do the same thing? They were in few.

Matthew would stand behind Arthur, no matter what. He had done so much for his sister and him. Arthur Kirkland was a good man, no matter what they say.

And maybe one day, when Arthur cures his sister, Matthew would be able to help him out of his mental instability.

_Don't let me go, my darling_

_Hold me safely 'til the morning_

_Promise, when the lights are fading_

_You'll save me_

Arthur had a new mantra.

* * *

_Eighteenth of July, 1889_

The Pole wasn't mad at all.

Copper-coloured objects were scattered all around him. Experimental pieces. All failures. They didn't matter anymore. He had found the proper ones. Arthur was momentarily satisfied. Not happy. Satisfied.

Francoise's heart had stopped beating.

Arthur was the cause. He had had to stop it in order to save her. After a long, tortorous night of debating with himself he had come to a decision: replacing Francoise's damaged organs mechanically.

He could save her.

He had to save her.

Those useless, decaying organs were now in jars, carefully placed on his shelf for later reseach. They were slimy and bloody, and the liquids mixed with the cold water they were floating in. Francoise herself was placed on the bed, face as calm as ever; of course, she couldn't show her emotions, plus Arthur had sedated her. He didn't know if the mechanical organs would work like they should. He knew they would work, but there were many stories of horrible failures.

"My dear, I've finished for today. I still have work to do. Tomorrow it should be ready", he said, pulling a chair next to the bed and sitting on it, carefully caressing Francoise's hair; no response. Her body was kept alive by a machine, multiple thin tubes connecting her to it. Her lungs were dependant on it completely; the faint rise of her chest indicated it worked. Arthur held his wife's slim hand, squeezing it softly.

"Tomorrow we will see. Tomorrow I will finish the last adjustments, then we will be done. I can shut the machine and you're cured. You can live again. We can live again. I'll see your eyes again."

The iron heart in Francoise's chest beat slowly, just loud enough to be heard.

Had Arthur thought about this, wondered if it's really worth it. Replacing multiple organs mechanically was against the code of practice. One or two would do, if the patient was an important one as in a royal or a chairman, but a former prostitute? That would not do, and he had replaced more than two. Did he care? No. For Francoise, Arthur was ready to shift the planet's axis. She was important.

He could hear her voice in his head.

_Don't let me go, my darling_

_Hold me safely 'til the morning_

_Promise, when the lights are fading_

_You'll save me_

* * *

_Thirtieth of March, 1889_

She was laughing. She was laughing like an angel, an enchanting smile on her lips and eyes shining like amethysts. Arthur had never felt so good, so alive, as he felt now, watching Francoise, sporting a beautiful lavender dress with white pearls and embroidery. Her hair was tied up on an elegant bun, and a small crown rested on top her her head. She looked gorgeous, and Arthur was certain there were no princesses or queens who could match her beauty at the moment.

And they were dancing.

They were dancing, spinning around the small hall and laughing, clinging to each other and Arthur wished this could go on forever.

"Arthur, you are a stupid bastard", she announced, giggling and smiling like a little girl. Arthur grinned. "Mrs. Kirkland, surely that is not a proper way to address your husband."

"Perharps. It's the truth, still."

Arthur kissed her softly, and his brothers cheered. He had invited his whole family to the wedding, but when his parents heard he was going to marry a prostitute, they had refused to be in any touch with him. His brothers had come, most likely because alcohol was free. From Francoise's side, there were no guests attending; just Matthew. It was a small wedding, only 15 guests were there.

It didn't matter, though. This day was about Francoise and Arthur.

The music eventually ceased, and Arthur escorted Francoise to the nearest chair, kneeling down next to her. Even if she was able to dance, it was quite a work for an ill woman. She catched her breath, smiling the whole time.

"I've never had this much fun", she said. Arthur squeezed her hand.

"We'll have many days this fun in the future. You'll see."

Francoise kissed his cheek. "Je t'aime, mon amour."

"I love you too."

Then Alistair, Arthur's eldest brother, grabbed him and dragged him to his brothers. They were laughing, congratulating Arthur and giving snarky comments, warning they might steal the lovely bride later_. _Francoise smiled. Such a wonderful day she had. Matthew sat next to her.

"You look lovely."

"Merci, Matthew."

"You look almost like you weren't ill at all", Matthew sighed. Francoise took his hand to hers. "I will be cured soon. Arthur will find the cure."

"I do hope so", Matthew smiled, hugging his sister. Francoise exhaled. "Soon I'll be back to normal. You'll just see."

_Don't let me go, my darling_

_Hold me safely 'til the morning_

_Promise, when the lights are fading_

_You'll save me_

* * *

_Nineteenth of July, 1889_

Things weren't going the way they should've. Not at all.

Arthur's eyes were wild, his breath uneven and heart beating fast. He was afraid. Cold sweat ran down on his skin, and profanities fell like the rain.

Those damned organs weren't working.

He was losing Francoise.

Francoise's blood was everywhere, on her, on the floor, on Arthur. The machine that had been keeping her alive was whistling now; it was broken. And the organs had failed him. Francoise's body was now on it's own, and Arthur had very little to do about it. He swore. No signs of life. More swearing.

Why wasn't the stupid heart working?!

More swearing.

Arthur did the last thing he could think of; manual ignition of the heart. He placed his hands on her chest and began a steady rythm, hoping it would help. It had worked previously, but it was rare; and Arthur had never actually done this to an artificial heart.

"Don't take her, Francoise, don't leave, don't..."

Five minutes. Nothing.

Arthur stepped back, tears falling from his eyes. Francoise's body displayed infront of him, bloody, broken, dirty, but still so amazingly beautiful. Slipping away. She was going to be taken away.

It was wrong.

It shouldn't be happening.

Not her.

No

No-

A beat. A breath.

No.

A gasp.

Her eyes opened.

More beats.

It worked.

Arthur ran to the bed, grabbing her hand. "Francoise!"

Her eyes, gleaming, violet eyes, found his.

"Arthur...You did it", she whispered, the faintest smile appearing on her face. "Yes", he said, "yes."

"I knew you would find the cure."

"Francoise, I'm so happy, so happy..."

She coughed. A loud, guttural cough. Arthur froze.

"Oh", she said. Arthur looked up. There was more blood. Dripping from her mouth. On her chest. Everywhere. Her blood.

"No", Arthur gasped, "no, this is not happening..."

"Arthur, cher, I'm not going to make it."

More coughing.

"No, Francoise, you can't die, you can't, no, don't..."

She touched his face with her hand, carefully caressing it. "Je t'aime."

"Francoise...", Arthur's voice broke. More tears.

"You're a brave man. Je t'aime."

Her eyelids fluttered, heartbeats became slower. Arthur screamed. "No! Francoise, you can't..."

She closed her eyes.

Heartbeats ceased.

She was gone.

_Don't let me go, my darling_

_Hold me safely 'til the morning_

_Promise, when the lights are fading_

_You'll save me_

* * *

_First of August, 1889_

"We found doctor Arthur Kirkland's last will. He leaves everything to you."

In six months, Matthew had changed from a poor boy into a master of a household.

It had required two lives.

After Francoise died, Arthur consealed himself into the laboratory, until a week later he was found there dead, too. He had committed suicide with the toxic liquids he had there. Arthur had been holding a jar with an organ inside it; Matthew knew it was Francoise's. Her heart.

Tough love it had been.

Matthew decided to continue his studies to become a doctor.

He also found himself reading a book about the dark arts voodoo.

* * *

_Thirtieth of March, 1889_

"Arthur."

Francoise's eyes were shining. She was sitting in Arthur's lap, facing him.

"What is it, love?"

"What happens if I die?"

"You will not die. I will not let you die."

Francoise sighed, and smiled. "You're only a man, yet I feel like I can trust on you with this matter; you will bring me back to life even from behind the gates of hell."

"Hell wouldn't let you in; Lucifer finds you intimidating."

She laughed, and planted a kiss on his lips.

"Promise me, if he changes his mind and allows me in the fiery depths, don't let me go, my darling. Hold me safely 'til the morning. Promise, when the lights are fading, you'll save me. You'll save me from death."

Arthur pulled her closer. "I promise."

* * *

**OUUUUUCH. I don't know about you, but writing this killed my feels. It hurrrts. Also, Mattie is kinda crazy now too. What a great way to end a story. Thanks for the favourites and follows! I appreciate them! Hope you enjoyed "Doctor's wife"!**


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